


Anita

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Title: AnitaWord count: +/- 4KRating: NC-17Warnings: M/F interactions. Implied M/M. Dub-con! Please, if you're of the faint of heart, don't read this. Also, it portrays the Beatles (John and Paul) in a way you mightn't like.Disclaimer: I'd never even DARE claiming the Beatles to be mine. This is only a work of fiction, nothing more. Also, for mistakes in the story you are to blame me.A/N: So yeah. I'm not much of a fan of hurt!Paul. This is... the contrast. I'm for the first time since quite some time very nervous about posting a fic. Also, Anita Cochrane is one of this story's main characters. You can find more information on her here. Concrit is appreciated, and of course ordinary comments are as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted 14 DECEMBER 2009.

Anita  
  
  
The Cavern club is as always when John and Paul walk through it, after their gig. Dark, sweltering hot, and impossible to breathe well. And filled with nowhere near enough girls throwing themselves at them to have a quick tumble somewhere, a fuck in a dark alleyway or perhaps on a bench, in a quiet park. Nowhere near enough to satisfy their needs, brought along with the rush of adrenaline performing always gave them, and the hormones racing through their teenage bodies.   
  
 Then John spots Anita Cochrane. She is standing right there, in the middle of the dancing crowd, going wild on Jailhouse Rock. He knows about her and Paul, about last month (or was it longer ago?), and he grins at his mate, who immediately walks over to her. The confidence in his steps is present, even though he must be quite drunk by now.   
   
“Hey,” Paul slurs in her ear, looking at her with lidded eyes and a lazy grin on his lips. He knows no girl is ready to shove him off immediately, and Anita surely seems interested. She laughs at him, and greets him as well.  
   
“It was a great gig you were playing,” she smiles sweetly, and she must have had quite some to drink because she is not very steady on her legs and already leaning against Paul's body. Paul slips his arm around her middle, right when John joins them.  
   
“Hullo,” he says, and Anita looks up at him, gigging nervously. He knows she doesn't like him anywhere as much as Paul, but hey – it is Paul who is in desperate need for a shag.  
   
Actually. He can vaguely recall Paul telling him that she said she hates him. Well, fuck. It is probably for the best that she is drunk, then.  
   
“John,” Paul says suddenly, after a little while where in John has been standing rather still and looking at a girl with particularly blonde hair, a large front and an even large behind, but a very slim middle. Very distracting. Really. “John,” Paul says again, more urgent now. “I think we have to get Anita outside,” he tells him, and she really does look rather pale and about to be sick.  
   
When she looks like she is retching – and John can't tell for sure because the sound is overpowering – each man (because they are not under age anymore, and after Hamburg they have returned a lot older, and then there is Cynthia, but John does not think about her deliberately, not tonight) grabs one of her arms and it is like that how they drag her to the fresh outside air.  
   
Where she promptly bends forward, and starts retching even more violently. Paul grabs her arm again, and drags her into an alley while John waits for her to finish throwing her guts up. He tries not to pay too much attention to the sounds coming from the darkness, but when they return, Anita does look a bit better and smiles shyly. Again. This time also at John though, which makes him ask gruffly, “are you okay?” She nods.  
   
“I can imagine you don't really want to return to the Cavern,” Paul says and John finds it rather coy, the way he says it. Anita, though, beats Paul at the sweetness he can nearly smell between the two people. Even though he knows Paul probably doesn't really mean it anyway. “Will you come with us to the apartment?” he asks her, and Anita starts blushing. It is where it happened too the last time, and she seems all too eager for it to happen again. The it, of course, being sex, though John and Paul hardly ever refer to it as such – it is not very attractive in boys to 'have' a lot of it girls seem to think, and it certainly is not to Cynthia. Who is, of course, married to John and so he can understand her objections, but even so.  
   
“Can I,” Anita starts saying, and then quickly shuts up, a blush appearing on her cheeks. John can see it clearly, even in the moonlight coming from so high above the streets of Liverpool, in the cold night air. Paul looks at her curiously, and so she says a lot quieter; “can I have a glass of water first please?”  
   
“You can have that back at the apartment,” John blurts out, a little more harshly than he had intended, but exactly like he would have told Cynthia.  
   
He sees how Anita slumps, a bit, and Paul looks slightly shocked, but then shakes his head and smiles a little. It is not like Paul treats girls much differently, John knows. He knows about the first time, when Anita had not really wanted it, but he had pushed her. And now he sees blatant lust in her eyes, and a lot of adoration, but also the fear that must have been in there the first time as well. The fear Paul must have talked out of her, but John is not sure whether he can this time around. He knows the signs. They have plenty of experience since Hamburg.  
   
“Want to bet?” he whispers, once Anita is walking two paces in front of them. Paul looks at him, confused.  
   
“To bet about what?” he asks John, and Anita looks over her shoulder at them, raising her eyebrows as if asking 'what?'. “There is nothing,” Paul says, and it is enough for her to look forward again.  
   
“She doesn't want to have sex with you tonight,” John says quiet and quick, and Paul raises his eyebrows disbelievingly. “If you can get her to bed with you,” John continues, keeping his eye on Anita all the time, “you'll get free booze the entire night when we are going out next week.”  
   
“And if I lose?” Paul asks, and it is then that Anita turns around again. “Are we nearly there?” she asks them, and both John and Paul breathe a sigh of relief. They both nod, it is only two streets from where they are now.   
   
“ _When_ you lose,” John corrects. He remembers right then that nobody will be at the apartment, everybody somewhere else, which can work in his advance but just as well in Paul's. “I can make you do anything I want to.” He knows Paul is always up for a challenge. He also still remembers the confidence in his walk back in the club, which has subdued but it certainly is not gone.  
   
“Alright,” Paul nods briskly, and John holds out his hand. Paul shakes it, and then they both look forwards again – from the corner of his eyes John can see Paul is paying more attention to Anita (or more specifically: her arse) than to where he is walking, and he sniggers quietly at the thought of Paul stepping into a dog's droppings, the image of a disgusted Anita popping up automatically in a flash.  
   
The rest of the short walk is spent in silence. Anita turns around one more time, to ask whether to turn to the left or right, but eventually they arrive. As John had predicted, though not voiced the thought, the apartment is dark and it looks a lot less inviting than usual. Especially without the music and the laughter of people erupting from the room, it looks rather... eerie. The curtains have been drawn, and for a moment John fears there might be a murderer inside, waiting for them. Then he realizes that it can't be, that there wouldn't be a reason for that, and he stuffs the key in the lock with confidence, turning the lock with a click, and lets Paul and Anita in before closing the door behind him. He does lock the door behind him ( _Just for security,_ he tells himself, _nothing can happen but one can never be too sure. My thoughts must have been affected by Cyn, it is for a good cause_ ).  
   
Then he stops thinking. Behind his back, Paul has already started with feeling up Anita. John sits down on the opposite side of the room, watching them, and lights a cigarette. There is nothing in here he hasn't seen before: plenty of naked girls' bodies (perhaps even Anita's) - check, Paul's body – check, a combination of those two – double check.  
   
She is wriggling underneath Paul, and John thinks it sounds like laughter at first, but then it becomes painfully aware that she is trying to shove Paul off. Her mouth has been covered with Paul's but she doesn't respond to the kisses, and John grins satisfied; he knows he will win this bet. Anita will never let Paul do anything more, if she is already protesting.  
   
He thinks it is rather amusing to watch the struggle, and waits for Paul to back off. Then, rather suddenly, Anita goes pliant and Paul can kiss her with ease. Her muttering fades, and all sounds left in the room are the wet sounds of kisses, and cloth against cloth. Paul's hips are moving against Anita's thighs, and John remembers how that feels from his own experience.   
   
John walks over to watch them closer, and he tells himself that it certainly is not to get a better look, certainly not because this is turning him on. It does turn him on though, a little bit, but he is still young so it is all right. There is a girl, which is even better. But the main reason remains – he has to check whether Paul will win or loose this bet. He ignores the growing heat between his legs, and sits down about a meter from where Anita and Paul are laying on a mattress on the floor. He flicked his old cigarette away earlier, and lights a new one now. Paul looks up briefly, and grins, while John only rolls his eyes at him.  
   
Paul returns to kissing the sullen Anita, and John returns to watching them. _Observing_ them, and while Paul is obviously enjoying himself, Anita does not look very happy at all. She looks at Paul with adoration, but whenever she turns her face to the side and sees John, she frowns. He doesn't really understand why though – last time there must have been more people around. Even so, John tries to avoid Anita's eyes, which means he is spending a ridiculous time looking at Paul, his hips still moving but a little more frantic now, and John knows he must be ready for it by now. He doubts whether Anita is though, which is all for the best.  
   
When Paul slips his hand under Anita's skirt, she starts wriggling again. John sits up a little straighter.  
   
“Paul,” she complains, “I don't want that.” Paul frowns, and kisses her again, both of his hands treading through her short blond hair. Then he cups one of her breasts. This time Anita pushes his hand away. “Come on,” she whines, “I told you I didn't want it the last time, and so I certainly don't want it now. Especially not while John is watching.”  
   
“Oh,” John says, but not because Anita mentions him. “You haven't actually had sex with her then?”  
   
Anita looks at him disgustedly. “Of course he hasn't had sex with me!” she tells him. “What do you think I am, a cheap whore? Oh surely you do, you treat all girls as such,” and Paul looks away from them.  
   
“Paul?” John asks, ignoring Anita's comment. Paul just shrugs. It is no wonder he has been rather cranky lately – the sex with Anita was supposed to have been the last, and it has actually not happened. It only convinces him more of Paul's need of a shag.  
   
“Alright,” Paul sighs, his body still covering Anita's, “I have not had sex with her,” he admits. “I just thought that,” he trails off, and stares at Anita's mouth. John rolls his eyes as Paul starts kissing her again. Very needy, then. “Help me out though,” Paul mutters as Anita bats away his hand again, and although John knows that it is likely his chance of winning the bet will rapidly back down to zero, he is pleased to help his friend out. Anything, if it makes Paul's behaviour better acceptable than it has been.   
   
“I won't buy you drinks,” he quickly whispers though, just for security, and this time it is Paul's turn to roll his eyes. Then John sits down beside the couple, and holds Anita's hands. “It'll be alright luv,” he tells her, “it will only feel really good. Our Paulie here,” he shoots a quick look to Paul, who winks at her, “he surely knows what he is doing.” He pretends not to see the tear rolling down her cheek, and does not point it out to Paul, either. Cynthia reacted much in the same way, he supposes girls' emotions work differently, also during sex.  
   
Anita doesn't reply, and Paul kisses her again while John takes hold of her hands gently as possible. He is able to hold them above her head with only one hand, and pushes his other hand to the unbearable heat between his own legs. Paul, in the mean time, is pushing Anita's shirt up, and undoes her bra. John starts rubbing at himself while Paul moves down lower, kissing her tits, her nipples standing up in hard points and Anita moans while the tears are still falling, while she is still wriggling to get free. John pretends he doesn't notice, and follows Paul's actions instead.  
   
Paul slides his hands over her skirt first, and then under it. Anita closes her legs, but Paul doesn't care and John still pretends not to see. He looks at Anita's face, and wants to kiss her, her lips plump red and her eyes closed. She is making quiet noises John can't decipher.   
   
Before he does so, though, he looks at Paul. Their eyes lock together at the moment Paul zips down Anita's skirt, and drags it over her hips, leaving her mostly bare. Her shirt has half slid back over her chest, and she still has her knickers on but likely not for long. Paul nods, though, giving John the sign of sharing this girl. John presses a chaste kiss against her lips, and then repeats the action but a lot firmer. His tongue is asking for entrance, and he knows he is being persistent in a way he probably should not be, but he continues with it anyway. The buzz of the alcohol is still in his blood, and the adrenaline is rapidly fading, but the excitement and the prospect of sex tonight is enough make him relive the same sped up heartbeat, the same flutter in his stomach. He rubs between his legs, and it isn't until then that he remembers Anita does not smoke, has only had water since they arrived at the apartment, and he tastes smoke and whiskey on her tongue anyhow. The idea that this is Paul he is tasting, is making him feel strange, and he quickly stops kissing her.  
   
Anita whines right at that moment, but it isn't because John stopped kissing her, he sees. Paul has dragged her knickers down, revealing the triangle of pubic hair and starts kissing her thighs. He is holding her legs firmly apart, his fingers digging into her legs as she is trying to shy away from him. His grip is probably hard enough to leave bruises the next day – John knows Paul is definitely able to do so from experience. The five small marks are still on his arm, fading rapidly now, but surely present.  
   
Paul starts kissing the hair, and then moves that little bit down, bridging the way to her entrance. John sees the pink tip of Paul's tongue, dipping into the creases of her vagina, and how her hips start to move involuntarily. He knows the salty taste, the texture of the skin, because this is something he has done before as well. Paul undoubtedly has done so too. He is far too sure about his movements for this to be his first time licking a girl in such a sensitive place. The heat between John's legs is getting unbearable, and the hardness of his dick is painful, throbbing with each pulse of his heart. Paul is now holding her hips with his hands, stroking the skin softly, and Anita makes a strange noise at the back of her throat when Paul finally quits kissing her. He is glad when Paul half sits up, and unbuttons his jeans, undoes the zip, and pushes them down. His underwear hangs on his hard cock, and John can see that around the tip the fabric of his pants a damp spot has formed. John has to bite on his lip, nearly forgets to hold Anita's arms, so he won't moan when the smell of sex enters his nose.  
   
The moment Paul pulls his trousers down, his eyes flutter close, and Anita starts crying loudly. “I don-” she wants to say, but John has seen her eyes widen the moment Paul his dick bobbed out of his underwear, red and needy, a drop of semen gathering at the silk-softness of the tip. He clasps his hand over her mouth, hoping Paul hasn't heard anything – even though he seems to be too caught up in the moment of finally getting rid of that horrible restriction John is still battling with. And will be for a while longer too, as now he is holding Anita with both of his hands. He is trying to keep the bulge of his groin away from anything that might rub against it in a pleasant way – if this is torture already, the smallest stimulation - not able to get him to come - will kill him.  
   
Anita cries out the moment Paul penetrates her, and then bites hard down on John's hand. He nearly yelps, but manages to keep quiet, although he presses his legs together which causes his eyes to squeeze shut. Right next to his head, Paul is panting heavily. He knows it can't have hurt that much, John has asked plenty of girls about it. Atop of that, the friction had to be much rougher for sex to really hurt – he supposes.   
   
Underneath his hand, Anita is still sobbing, her lips forming words she can't voice. Paul has started thrusting into her, which makes John jealous of his friend. Anita's body moves up and down with little shocks, each time Paul pushes in or pulls out of her. The only sounds in the room are those of the sex – wet, although John thinks it might be more because Paul has licked her ready before than because she is turned on. She doesn't moan, after all. Paul, however, does, with his eyes closed, and his movements growing more and more frantic each moment. John catches a glimpse of where Paul dick slides in and out of Anita, wet and red and slippery warmth he knows so well from Cynthia and all the other girls he has bedded. Still this is different, the position he is in, the role he is playing, the way he is aroused as well but can't do anything about it. The way Anita keeps moving her lips under his hand, tears streaming down her face, and John feels a pang of - _something_ in his stomach. The same feeling he had before, which makes him look at Paul.  
   
Paul, who opens his eyes wide and stills, staring into John's eyes and quietly moans something that doesn't sound a lot like 'Anita' at all. Then he closes his eyes again and goes limp atop of the girl.  
   
John lets go of her mouth and hands, and she immediately sits up, panicking out loud now. “Let me go,” she pushes Paul off her body with a strength John had no idea she possessed, and obviously Paul hadn't either, as he looks rather shocked. She runs towards the door, in the mean time doing up her skirt and panties, and pulling down her top. She starts pulling at the door handle, not knowing it was locked by John. “Where are the keys?” she says, half-crying, and John feels a stab in his gut when he realises she really is in panic. They have gone too far. He forgets about the key, and Anita starts crying again, her breathing out of control and practically hyperventilating. Paul, sitting next to him with his pants pulled up for decency and his trousers still halfway down his thighs, looks rather pale. John feels as though he might be sick any second, and the feeling only increases when he realises he is still rock-hard.  
   
He feels the key still sitting in his pocket, and takes it out after he stands up. John walks towards the door, silent, and opens it for Anita. She is sitting by the door, the tears now falling silently again. The moment John turns the key in the lock, she stands up and walks out of the door, leaving John and Paul behind in the apartment.   
   
John closes the door behind her, and with his eyes downcast he returns to the mattress Paul is still sitting on. Neither of them says anything – the both of them have realised they shouldn't have done this. John feels the guilt grow in his stomach grow each second, and Paul is very pale by now. When he stands up after a little while and walks outside, John doesn't have to ask him why. He ignores the retches he hears from outside, and when Paul returns a little while later, still pale and a lot more sweaty by now, he only smiles weakly. Neither are fine though.  
   
And the arousal is still present, in a rather urgent manner. John supposes he has two choices now, because if this wasn't a mood killer, then nothing is. He'll have to take care of it, or spend the rest of the night with a hard-on. The best choice is an easy one. Paul has noticed too by now – his eyes drifting down haven't escaped John's attention. When he unzips his own trousers, Paul follows his actions.  
   
John takes his dick loosely in his hand, trying to push all thoughts about Anita to the back of his mind. The _far_ back. Before he starts stroking himself, he looks at Paul with raised eyebrows. “Will you?” he asks, quietly, but Paul stands up when he does.  
   
“Fuck you, John,” he says, angrily. John knows this isn't how Paul normally reacts – it wouldn't be the _first_ time, but it is easy to figure out why he's in a bad mood. His breath is sour, disgusting, and hot in John's face when he leans down. “From now on, you better solve your own problems. When I do something you are asking me to, it always ends in a fucking _disaster._ ” John doesn't have to ask what Paul means – it isn't just Anita. Not only what happened today. It is the final straw that is making Paul burst out like this.  
   
Shagging obviously was not the right solution for Paul's moodiness.  
   
“I'm sorry about what happened,” he says, apologising for what happened to Anita today. He is still hard and still naked, still touching himself but not moving. Paul shakes his head, his mouth a thin line. John watches Paul in the silence that follows, his hand moving faster and faster. It takes him less than a minute to come, his hand covering the tip of his dick when he does. He buttons up his trousers, and wipes his hand off on the side of the mattress. There are more smears there, and mostly of substances of which he doesn't want to know what they are or where they came from.  
   
“You knew I wanted that more than anything,” Paul then tells John angrily. “And then you forced me into having sex with her.” Even though John knows it isn't only his fault – Paul was just as well a participant, he was the one acting it out – it still feels like a stab in his gut, it feels like the truth. It was his idea to close the bet. This time it is his turn to run outside, and he barely makes it in time. The tears sting in his eyes and the sour smell penetrates his nose in a way he severely dislikes. Paul is standing behind him when he retches again, the world spinning but there is a cool hand on his back for comfort.  
   
“At least we won't have a hangover tomorrow,” he hears Paul say from afar, but John his head is too crowded with thoughts gone crazy to even register it properly. The joking tone is back in Paul's voice, but forced. When he finally thinks he's able to stand up straight again, and turns around, he sees Paul smiling grimly at him.   
   
“We shouldn't have done that,” John tells him, walking past Paul inside and pouring himself a glass of water. It is a relief to wash away the disgusted taste in his mouth that has been there for a while now – since the moment he kissed Anita or possibly before. The coolness of the water feels amazing as it slides down his throat, raw from puking and also from the performance earlier in the evening. He doesn't know how late it is, and he doesn't care either. All he wants to do is sleep and forget. He hands Paul the glass, who empties it in two, three large gulps.  
   
When Paul opens his mouth, John gestures him to be silent. “Come on,” he tells Paul, pushing him inside and towards the mattress. John doesn’t think about what has happened on there, but stares at the ceiling and leans with his back against the cold wall.  
   
“What d'you reckon?” Paul asks quietly, sitting down on the mattress.   
   
“We have to stop thinking about it. Anita won't say anything,” he says, and since Paul shakes his head it is likely that they are both guessing right, “and we have to forget about it.”Hopefully he'll be able to push it to the back of his mind so he'll forget. Forget, like he forgot about that other thing of a while back.   
   
Paul's eyes are downcast, and John sits closer next to him. “You've told me that before, though,” he sighs.   
   
“Not the same,” John snorts sarcastically. They haven’t talked about that either though, nor has he thought about it. Not really.   
   
And really, they manage. They don’t talk about it again, and John hardly ever thinks about what has happened. Sometimes though, when they are drunk late in the evening or hung-over early in the morning, he looks at Paul and they think the same. Anita.


End file.
